Morale: The Oflian Conflict
by alexdindu
Summary: Samus is 18 and in the GF Army. This fic explores how her personal morals conflict with orders from the Galactic Federation, and explores the GF a little more in-depth.
1. Part 1: Reconnaissance

"Oflir is a unique planet, known for its natural deposits of liquid plasma and other geographic wonders, such as rare minerals with infinite applications. The Federation was correct: the Oflian Supreme Council is hiding the fact that Planet FL-220 is home to volatile substances that could be used as bio or chemical weapons. The Oflians are fiercely intelligent, but they have not found me or Agent Grubar. We have reason to believe they are selling these minerals to criminal organizations, but they keep the plasma to themselves..."

The grizzled man that had been speaking to the computer console pressed the pause button, then saved. He ran a hand through his coarse black hair and sighed. It was hard work, gathering intelligence for the Galactic Federation. He swiveled around in the chair, facing the rest of the room. The communication chamber was tiny and sound-proof. The silence would be deafening if not for the soft hum of the COM unit. Deciding he'd had enough work-related matters for today, the tan-skinned man left the minuscule room and flipped a switch to turn the light off. In the hall beside the door was a small touch screen, and as he toyed with it, a metal door slid into the floor and locked itself.

The Federation ship was huge and accommodating, and made to look like a civilian ship from the outside, should the Oflians ever find them. There were two other doors just like the one he closed, one was he and his fellow agent's sleeping quarters, and the other was a spare room that their child used. The Federation had initially denied this liability, but ultimately, the Grubars strong-armed the Feds into letting them bring Siveen.

His partner emerged from Siveen's bedroom and walked down the dimly lit hall. "Lance, did you finish the report?"

Having at least a foot on them height-wise, Lance looked down to meet their gaze as they drew close enough to embrace. "Not quite. I don't know what else to add right now. My brain is mush," he held them in a tight hug. "I've had enough. I just want to go to bed, Tula."

Tula smiled softly and took his hand to lead him to the bedroom. "C'mon. It's been a hard day."

Lance nodded and let them lead him.

The couple disappeared into their quarters, shedding their dirty reconnaissance clothes. Lance hit the pillow and passed out immediately, leaving Tula to cover him. They kissed his hair softly, then went to their own bunk and fell asleep just as instantly.


	2. Part 2: Director of Central Intelligence

_Galactic Federation HQ_

A brown-haired woman sat at her desk, which overlooked a booming metropolis. All of it, even the civilian areas, were part of the Central Galactic Federation Headquarters. Winota Yavis' office faced a secure landing port. It was a gargantuan pad encased by solid Denzium. The roof had a single large slab that slid open and closed as required. She watched as a small ship entered it, then turned in her chair to face her desk again. She kept it clean and minimal; all that was on it was a sleek, silver laptop, her title card, a glass of water, and a notepad with a special pen. The pen was a gift when she received her promotion to Director of Central Intelligence several years ago. The DCI, they called her. She thought the acronym on its own was a little intimidating, and she liked it.

She opened the laptop, her fingers moving quickly over the touch-interface as she prepared a secure channel. As that loaded up, she pressed a button under her desk, and another computer console emerged from a panel on the empty left side of her desk. She opened a file entitled "ofla", and it brought up the profiles of Special Intelligence Agent Lance Grubar and Reconnaissance Operative Tula Grubar. Courted and wed by the end of their respective training. Winota smirked at the note before reading into other things regarding their case to refresh her memory.

The Grubars were sent to investigate Planet FL-220, or Oflir, as the locals called it. It was just out of the Galactic Federation's jurisdiction, but only just, and the mineral trade there was booming. The Oflian government preferred not to have any dealings with the Federation and actively deterred any visitors. When Winota saw this, she had a hunch that something shady was going down there. After 103 Earth days in the field, her agents had discovered that there were huge deposits of natural plasma, and the Oflian government, though appearing affable and willing to sell other rare resources, had been hiding this. Some of the trade regarding the raw minerals was completely legal and on the books, but multiple stealth operations conducted by Tula and Lance revealed that much of it was being sold to criminal organizations and rich, renegade bounty hunters.

Winota switched to a newer, more alarming report, her mind sufficiently refreshed. She took a huge gulp of water and set it back down, and began to read the report by Tula, received a few days ago.

 _Oflians are bipedal beings that have never been studied by humans, so little is known about them, and it has been quite enlightening to observe them. We have deduced, through observation over the last 166 days, that they are composed of a type of hard rock, have mouths and disgestive tracts and make excretions. They are capable of consuming most sediments and do not consume meat or vegetation. It appears they subsist entirely on rocks. When I infiltrated a facility that processes cordite, I discovered that they actually need it to digest their rocks properly. The primary component in cordite is nitroglycerin, and the chemical reacts with bacteria in their disgestive organs, explosively breaking the food down to its essential nutrients. As humans who do not consume water will die, so will an Oflian who does not consume cordite/nitroglycerin._

 _In addition, Lance and I understand the Federation uses cordite for many things, and supplies of it exist in almost every major GF-controlled metropolis. Considering their animosity towards visitors, even tourists, we theorize they're hiding their plasma for military applications. Further investigation pending._

\- End of Report


	3. Part 3: Food for War

Winota lingered on the last bit of the report. She loved the Grubars; they were incredibly intelligent. Even without that insight, Winota would have hypothesized the same thing. At that moment, the secure channel displayed a few messages in quick succession, scanning her in the process.

 _Incoming request for live COM..._

 _Source: FL-220_

 _Console user ID confirmed [via retina]: DCI YAVIS_

 _Secure channel ready. Touch to deny COM. COM will initiate automatically in 5 seconds._

Winota quickly took a sip of water and cleared her throat before the channel went live. She fussed with the white headband she wore that separated her glorious dark brown afro from her forehead, in an attempt to combat the anxiety trying to set in.

"Miss Yavis, Ma'am, it's Lance," his voice was steady and low, just above a whisper.

"Yes, greetings. I just read Tula's report on the biology of the Oflians, their lack of cordite, and their hiding of the naturally occurring plasma," her voice was equally professional, but she spoke in normal volume in contrast to him.

There was a short pause. "Tula is in the field, near a military base. Currently situated on the cavern ceiling, as we speak, she is watching grotesque experiments on a local wildlife. I have eyes on it as well."

"Compromising for them to speak at times," the DCI finished for him.

"Yes. I'm on the ship to process this, but I don't think this can wait until the next report."

She furrowed her brows and tightened her lips. "What is it?"

"It appears they have successfully fused a plasma-based weapon with a large quadruped. Mounted under the muzzle, the weapon reacts with vibrations in the vocal cords. Every time it roars, the weapon goes off," Lance's voice faltered slightly as he explained. "They've also fused plasma cells with small, wall-crawling creatures and use them in their trials as walking bombs."

Winota swallowed the hard lump in her throat and took a second to compose her response. "This is amazing information. Awful, but amazing. This is why you and your spouse are my favourite agents."

She couldn't see it, but she knew Lance had at least smirked at the flattery. The transcription of their conversation was appearing in text as they spoke, and she began formulating her own report out of it.

Lance cleared his throat. "Ma'am, Tula has established a link with their database. We tried to do it from the ship, but I guess they anticipated that someone might try to penetrate the caverns with a strong, wireless signal. Tula is whispering to me that they got in using a less obvious signal, one coming from a small device and disguised as an internal military signal. Thousands of these connections are made daily, but Tula couldn't do it from far away."

Winota was rapidly making notes and preparing the main console for the database stream. "Yes. Excellent. Connect me to their COM, Agent."

"Will do," Lance said with an audible click afterward.

She waited for the system to secure the connection again before speaking. "Tula. What are you finding?"

Their voice was a raspy, crackly whisper. "Their entire military research is just bioweapons and how to use plasma. You should be getting a live feed of it..."

Her dark eyes darted to the second screen of the main console, which was rapidly processing and translating their research. "Yes, I have it."

"Alright, I'm going into the administrative files and handing you back to Lance," Tula said with some finality.

 _Click._

"Um, holy fuck," Lance uttered, not realizing the channel was live with the DCI again.

"No shit," Winota agreed as the administrative section of the database began feeding the second screen. It was the beginnings of an elaborate plan to use the bioweapon program and the weaponized plasma for their own gain, and they both became more mortified as they read on. They were going to destroy anyone with cordite or nitroglycerin in its raw form. The nearest planet was GF-controlled and naturally, full of cordite.

A million thought trees came to her at once. "Lance, I have to go. You've both been incredible. Get Tula to retreat before they're found out and killed. Start getting ready to evacuate," she paused, remembering their young daughter. "Double-time, Grubar."


	4. Part 4: Executive Order 72364

_Aboard a GF battleship..._

Samus stood at nearly six and a half feet in just her power suit. She was the only one that could stand at the moment - her fellow marines were all strapped into their seats as they shot through space at the maximum speed humans had accomplished at this point. It was never as fast as her personal ship could go, and they couldn't have artificial gravity while traveling at this speed. Even though she didn't have the full-fledged Gravity Suit enabled, she had a few of the effects turned on so she could walk about freely, much to the silent envy of the marines.

She left the expansive passenger area, her boots clicking authoritively as she came to a small enclosure before the piloting pit. The metal door was closed and locked tightly.

"Hey, is it pressurized in there?" Samus yelled over the roaring engines.

"Yes, it is," Adam's voice crackled from a speaker hiding in the upper left corner of the chamber.

Samus slammed her yellow-clad fist into an equally yellow button near the opening of the room, and a metal door like the one guarding the pilots pit began to close and clamp together, very much like a mouth baring fangs. The room pressurized soon after sealing, and a green light appeared above the pilots pit, signaling that the door had been unlocked.

Samus entered the pit. There was a very short walkway down to the glass observation hull. On the left were two seats and two consoles - one was raised higher than the other. The copilot was in the chair closest to the hull, and Adam sat in the other. They both had their helmets placed off to the side.

"Huh, must be comfortable in here," Samus remarked, jutting one leg forward slightly to tap her boot on the metal floor.

Adam shot her a smirk, but his grey eyes remained focused on the screens under his hands and ocassionally to the co-pilot's console. "Not really. My ears are popping."

"It _is_ a bit cooler, though," the copilot said shyly.

Samus was silent, and took a few steps to the transparent hull. She observed the vastness of space and the brilliant colours flashing by. It was a view that never got old.

"I bet yours would too, if you took off the helmet," Adam mused.

Samus turned quickly, just in time to see his face in a relaxed state for a split second. She pursed her lips at the challenge, but it wasn't visible behind her helmets vent. "Maybe."

She proceeded to enter a code on a hidden pad of coloured buttons on her arm cannon, and the helmet released from its lock. When Samus pulled it off, part of the flexible black membrane came with it, visibly detaching from the neural connection with her zero suit. Her blonde hair was cut short - much more practical and comfortable than a bun or ponytail. She raised her eyebrows, almost in defiance, and strolled up to the pilots console again. Her ears weren't popping at all.

"They aren't, Smartie."

"It must be your Chozo DNA," Adam answered frankly and dryly.

Samus chuffed, replacing her helmet. "You've got an answer for everything."

As she re-entered the code to get the helmet to lock again, Adam received a transmission from his commanding officer. He began to read over it quickly, and remained stoic while doing so.

"What's that?" Samus asked, leaning closer.

"Hey, this is for staff officers to know," he held up a hand as he continued to read. "Give me a moment and I will summarize it for you."

Samus took a step back and crossed her arms, cautiously reaching up with her left hand to activate the scan visor. She surveyed the document, easily procured. She smiled initially at her cunning, but it faded as she saw the Executive Order.

 _The Federation has received sufficient evidence that the resident government of Planet FL-220, locally known as Oflin, is conducting major criminal offenses that include but are not limited to: production of bioweapons, harvesting of forbidden substances, trafficking of forbidden substances, and intent to commit genocide. We confronted them peacefully through digital communication, and they shut down the channel. The Armed Forces Council opted for a full scale invasion and culling of the Oflians. The recipients of this message are hereby ordered to set course to Planet FL-220 immediately. A temporary base has already been set up nearby, within the Federation's jurisdiction. You will receive more detailed orders from your COs en route or upon arrival at this base. All units should make pre-combative preparations, should the Oflians notice us and make a preemptive strike. Any breach of this Executive Order 72364 will be met with charges of treason._

 _Galactic Federation Chairman Callum Holden_

"It appears..." Adam started.

"No, I got it right here," Samus cut him off.

"Aran, I advise you not to go literally behind my back like that again," he said in monotone and frowned. "I expect to recieve special orders, with you under my command."

Samus rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course."

"Perhaps you should arm yourself with more than the basics," Adam advised, resetting the course of the battleship.

"Sir, I'd like to take ship out of warp-speed and let the soldiers know about this," the copilot said after he read the document Adam sent to him. "Make those preparations."

His attention snapped back to the reality of his position. "Yes. Go do it. Samus, make your preparations and be with your brethen," he commanded, referring to the other soldiers of her rank.

"Sir," she affirmed in a sarcastic tone, spinning on her heels and taking her leave.


	5. Part 5: Preparations

Samus exited the decompression chamber with 1st Lieutenant Raymond Kotov, meditating on Executive Order 72364. A 'full scale invasion and culling of the Oflians' sure sounded like a lot like committing genocide, one of the charges the Federation accused them of. It seemed like overkill, and above that, hypocritical. She found herself wondering what the 'sufficient evidence' was, hoping that it really was something that would justify slaughtering them all. Her mind wandered to the bioweapons they'd already created, and she shuddered as she imagined what they could be made of, or what purpose they served. The Chozo explained to her that they'd dabbled in that science - and that it was a forbidden one, and rightly outlawed.

She entered the oblong passenger chamber, standing awkwardly between one of the two rows of military personnel. There were two rows along each wall, and a double-sided row between them. There were 54 soldiers under Commander Malkovich, which left only 6 empty seats. One of them was hers, but it was positioned between two people, and she didn't really feel like talking or being near them.

Lt. Kotov was outlining the nature of their new orders. Adam's unit was a branch of Elite Ops that specialized in combat and infiltration. They unclipped themselves from the seats now that they were going slow enough for artificial gravity. Atop the collective clattering, he was telling them that the unit would likely be on the front lines, but that was all she heard before she started to leave the room to the docking bays. Her specific orders for EO 72364 would be different than theirs, anyway.

"Corporal Aran, I have not dismissed the platoon," the lieutenant said sternly as she tried to pass him. He had positioned himself near the opposite door of the decompression chamber, where everyone could see him.

"You finished the general briefing," Samus replied absently as she pressed a small button near the door. It was metal as well, but not the clamping type. It glided into the ceiling.

"Corporal!" Lt. Kotov raised his voice slightly, embarrassed at her insubordination in front of the entire unit.

She turned and disabled the reflective glow on her visor so he could see her disinterested face. She raised an eyebrow at him and put her hand on her hip.

"Lieutenant Kotov, I assure you I heard the brief," she said in a low, even tone. She met his irritated glare with measured calmness. It was a facial expression and demeanor she'd been practicing, and she meant it to be intimidating. "Commander Malkovich ordered me to make my suit more battle-ready, which takes place on my personal ship. You know this, being his 1st Lieutenant," she switched the reflective visor back on. "At least, I would hope."

He cleared his throat quietly, thoroughly flustered, though he shoved it down where his soldiers couldn't see. "Yes, Corporal. Get to it. As for the rest of you!" He paused for emphasis, before filling them in on more specific orders.

Samus turned quickly on her heels and brusquely walked away, saving the eye-roll for when she had her back turned. The door closed behind her automatically. She followed the plain, narrow hallway down a short slope, where it came to another gliding door, then kept winding downward. It was lit by orange floodlights, which glinted softly off the grey metal doors and their accompanying consoles that dotted the path to the docking bay. The walls and floor were just more grey, only a darker shade.

The voices of her comrades soon started to echo from above, who were dispersing to do their assigned tasks. She hurried down the last stretch to a small lift. There was a hand-print scanner to access the docking bays, but it was programmed to read the end of her arm cannon with the missile launcher open. It was so that no one could try to use her suit to open any restricted areas, lest she become unconscious. The door was also of the clamping variety - the lift was a compression chamber as well, because the docking bays were frequently de- and re-pressurized when it was in use.

The clamps reopened, and more floodlights clicked to life as she entered, this time with blinding, white fluorescence. There were thirteen Galactic Federation ships, all sleekly designed in matte black with blue accents on the weapon systems and the small window on the front. The first of them was bigger than the rest, but similar in style - Adam's 'Commandeer'-class gunship, for when they were deployed in aerial conflicts. Samus did a scan of one of the smaller ones as she passed by, revealing they were 'Serpent'-class gunships; designed to be quick, precise, and deadly.

She could hear the lift going up again, so she jogged over to her 'Hunter'-class gunship to avoid any interactions with the unit. The ship was one the Chozo built for her before she departed. It was a distinct and distinguished gold colour, though the Federation had argued it was orange when she was forced to register it with them. They'd also classed it as 'Hunter' because it was the closest category it could fit into.

She jumped once, then let the twin jets on the back of her suit propel her onto the hull. The entrance wasn't obvious from the ground, but once on top of it, there was clearly a hatch. Samus pressed a button on her arm cannon, sending a signal to the ship to unlock the first hatch. It slid back, each of the four metal folds disappearing into the hull, revealing a hexagonal platform. If someone had managed to tear through the hatch, they'd be met with this nigh-indestructible metal and unable to pass. Samus neatly stepped onto it and entered a different code on the hidden buttons she'd used to remove her helmet earlier, and the platform activated and brought her down into the ship. _Her_ ship.

She closed the hatch and blew out a long sigh. She felt at home among all the Chozo technology. The first thing she saw upon entering was her stasis chamber: a tall, tubular space that allowed her to add or remove the upgrades to her suit as she needed them. It was also a place to store the suit when she wasn't in it. It was connected to an energy recharge system to regenerate any lost shielding, and a micro-factory to replenish any lost missiles, super missiles, or power bombs.

Samus stepped inside, and automatically, glass slid from the left to the right, to seal her inside. A holographic interface appeared on the glass, asking her what she'd like to do. She had a few presets, and one of the quick-access options was just to take it off.

All the locks on her external armor disengaged, and she removed her right hand from the cannon to reveal that the black membrane beneath her armor extended all the way to her fingers. A robotic arm was there to hold the cannon for her, as were a couple more when she took off her helmet. Once all the armor pieces were removed, all she had was a neural connection to the black membrane through her zero suit. Using that, a part appeared at the neck and worked its way down to her waist. She stepped out of it, and more helpful arms held it in place for when she would return. Before she exited, she indicated to the stasis chamber to prepare the Gravity Suit and the four beams, and to equip power bombs, super missiles, and grapple beam.

Now just in the zero suit, she ruffled her short hair with both hands with a resigned sigh, and sat down in the captains chair. She wondered if she would personally 'cull' anyone herself on this mission, and noted just how close the words 'kill' and 'cull' sounded.

"There just _had_ to be a political term," she mused to herself. "Just can't come out and say, _let's kill these people_."


End file.
